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Mourning haircuts

   When you find yourself no longer gainfully employed the first thing to go is the lunch special at your favorite workplace restaurant, then the pedicures, then the Starbucks skinny latte, then the new make-up you wanted to try and then finally, the good haircut. There comes a time when the only reason to get a haircut is for a particularly promising job interview.
   This can bring you into the depths of a day-long depression. Especially if you’re big-boned like me and use your hair to deflect from your broad shoulders and wide hips.  There’s not much you can do but keep putting your hair up and trim your own bangs hoping it will pass for sloppy chic.
   My friend Katherine has great hair. She has the kind of hair that can either be extremely wavy or can be straightened with some type of heated device. She would go to work with it wet and scrunchy one day and the next day wear it sleek and straight.  And, she is employed so she can afford professional coloring and a good cut now and then.  Ahhh, those were the days.
   I have been seriously considering asking my husband to trim just a half inch off the bottom of my now shoulder length hair. He once evened out my bangs when I trimmed them crooked and he did a pretty good job. I have an old friend whose husband has cut her hair for years and she looks great. My husband makes a living with his hands so why wouldn’t he be able to do it? I’m on the brink of asking him. This is another one of those things I can spend an entire afternoon contemplating.
   Men are lucky when it comes to hair. Most of them don’t obsess over the way their hair covers the top of their ears, or if they do, they do it in silence. I was sitting around thinking about how to ask my husband to cut my hair when he came home from work the other day with a haircut he described as a “Number 3.” Apparently it has to do with the size of the razor the barber used to shear him. He was ecstatic to have his shaggy do cut off. He went into great detail about how the wind feels when it blows through hair no longer than my pinkie nail. He was so happy with his new haircut he figured he should trim his eyebrows to match. Now I’m not a fan of eyebrows gone wild so this came as good news to me. He came out of the bathroom about ten minutes later with half his left eyebrow missing. Sometimes I am so glad I’m not a man. His usual chipper self, he said, “Ahhh, don’t worry it’ll grow back. It always does.”
   Now I’m beginning to rethink asking him to trim my hair. I don’t want a “Number 3.” I’ll wait until it grows a little more or until I look like Princess Leia, her hair I mean. 

   I've never had my hair cut by anybody, I do it all myself.   Keith Richards


makes me remember haircuts in the dorm. I think I let almost anyone cut my hair, just cause it was free!
Connie Berry said…
but it's your braiding skills i remember most!

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